


Hot, D-!

by Mantykora



Series: MadaTobi Week 2018 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Day 1, Dick Jokes, Humor, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2018, Nudity, Too hot!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 15:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mantykora/pseuds/Mantykora
Summary: It was definitely too hot in here.





	Hot, D-!

**Author's Note:**

> MadaTobi Week 2018 - Day 1 - Too hot!

Tobirama wondered what gods had he angered in his past life to be punished like this. After further consideration, he came to the conclusion that he had only one god to blame for his misfortune. Hashirama would pay dearly for making him go over trade agreements and necassary budget allowances with none other than Madara Uchiha.

As if the unwilling co-op project wasn't bad enough on itself, the Land of Fire had been hit by the worst heat wave of the past five decades. In a short amount of time warm summer days descended into scorching inferno. Even the sanctuary of his own home couldn't provide any relief from the heat, nor any peace for that matter, for it was being hunted by a disgruntled Uchiha. Even though the weather left them in no mood for petty insults or snide comments, their lack did not make the company any more bearable.

Tobirama paused in his work to rethink some of his recent life choices. They had been going over the paperwork since the early morning hours. It was noon now and there was still no visible end in sight to their torment. Tobirama felt himself dying a little on the inside with every passing minute. He could swear that he must have read the same paragraph at least three times in the past hour. When he looked across the table it didn't seem like Madara was faring any better. Uchiha had an ugly frown plastered across his face as he mulled over one of the trade deals.

As their work progressed Madara's restraints started to fail him and their semi-pleasant ceasefire begun to crumble. Piece by piece. Every time Madara opened up his mouth only to complain. Loudly.

"It's too hot for this amount of work," Madara grumbled, using the papers he was holding as an impromptu fan instead of _reading_ them.

A vein popped up on Tobirama's forehead, heralding an oncoming headache. The notion that deep inside he completely agreed with the other man's assessment did not help his already poor mood.

"Gross. I'm sweating like a swine," Madara bemoaned, inspecting his overshirt.

Tobirama fought the urge to bash some heads against the table top. He could really live without such details on Madara's bodily functions, thank you!

Even when he refused to comment on any of it, Madara kept _talking_ , completely unaware of his suffering audience.

Some time and a dozen complaints later Tobirama's resolve to endure the situation to a peaceful resolution had finally crumbled. If asked, he'd blame the dehydration and the stilted air in the room for his errant behaviour at that time.

"Water in the garden well ought to be cold enough if the heat bothers you that much," he suggested helpfully. "You're welcome to throw yourself down into it." He patted himself mentally on the back for withholding the _and drown yourself there_ part.

"Why don't I throw _you_ into the well," Madara growled and started to rise from his seat.

Tobirama readied himself for a confrontation, that astonishingly didn't happen sooner considering their short tempers, shortened even further by this ungodly temperature. But instead of continuing the argument, Madara seemed to have abandon any thoughts of retaliation. Instead, his face took on a very calculating look that rang all the alarm bells in Tobirama's head.

"Actually, I think I'm going to take you up on that offer," Madara replied, deceptively calm. "A cold shower may be just the thing. That's the first sensible suggestion you made today."

Tobirama snorted. Apparently, the heat impacted only Madara's ability to work and not to be an asshole.

"Anything to shut you up and make you more productive," he offered pleasantly.

Madara glowered, but chose not to postpone his plans. With a condescending huff he stood up and left the room.

Tobirama let himself enjoy the brief break from the other man's presence. Madara was aggrevating under normal circumstances, but in close quarters he became nigh unbearable.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, drank the last gulp of water from his glass and picked up the trade deal with the Land of Rice Paddies. There was still work to do after all.

The sound of footsteps and water drops hitting the floor some time later announced Madara's return. Tobirama did not pay much attention to that, but when a few stray water droplets fell on some important documents he scowled. He lifted his head up from the paper he was reading, his gaze heavy with disapproval.

The first sight that met his eyes was a pair of hairy knees that led to a pair of hairy tights. And as Tobirama looked higher, the things did not get any better. He'd hazard a say that they took a turn for worse, because-

"The fuck, Uchiha, where are your clothes?!" He exclaimed at the sight of Uchiha's apparel or more exactly the complete lack of it.

"Drying," Madara harrumphed at him as if it was the most logical answer to the whole situation. "Besides this way's better. More breathier," he explained, smirking at Tobirama's half-panicked expression. "You should try it yourself."

Off all the things that the man could come up with Tobirama did not expect him to come back dripping wet and wearing _nothing_. With his head already all over the place because of the high temperature, Tobirama didn't need an Uchiha putting explicit images up in there as well. During office hours to boot.

Tobirama covered his eyes and gritted his teeth to temper both his stirring temper and libido. Sitting straight put him directly on the level of Madara's pelvis and he did not need to see more of his private parts. Especially not from such risque angles.

Of course he had seen Madara naked before. _In passing._ Such things as communal bath houses did exist. But that did not compare to getting an eyeful of Madara's endowment so close up to his face.

"Oh, a little body shy, are we?" Madara goaded, honing in on Tobirama's discomfort like a hawk on a rabbit.

Tobirama scoffed at the assumption, but to his dismay Madara seemed to take too much pleasure in making him suffer to stop at that.

"It's understandable," Madara went on. "I mean it's a lot to take in: that hair, that bod... Just remember to breath in."

The pen in Tobirama's hand did not snap, but his temper surely did.

"For gods' sake. Sit down. Don't wave that thing in front of my nose," he growled, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

Madara laughed in triumph, but relented at sat down. "There, all proper now," he said.

"Thank you," Tobirama spat fully aware that his tone was anything but grateful.

"You're welcome," Madara replied.

Tobirama felt his blood boiling. He tried to work in some breathing exercises to calm himself down before he suffered a heatstroke. The whole exchanged had left him a little too unbalanced for his liking. He picked up his glass of water and tipped it, but to his consternation no water came down. He had apparently forgotten that he had already drank it a while ago.

A surge of embarrassment raced across his face when he met Madara's smug expression over the edge of the glass.

"I'll refill the jug," Madara offered, all to happy with Tobirama making a complete clown out of himself.

Tobirama made the mistake of not looking away when Madara stood up. Not only he got reaquitanted with Madara's frontside, but also his backside when the man turned around. Tobirama choked on his saliva between one word and the other as he got caught for the same trick the second time.

"Would you stop exercising your exhibitionist kink right in front of my face?!" He shouted after he managed to get his mouth in order.

A mocking laughter from the kitchen's direction was his only answer.

Cursing Madara under his breath, Tobirama returned to rifling through the documents. Once he fished out the trade deal he started to read it vigorously. The work did not come easy, because his mind was too preoccupied with Madara of all things. He cursed the man once more for good measure. Firstly, for not working himself and secondly, for being the reason others could not work, either.

After a moment Tobirama had to put the document down since it didn't look like he would get it done, anyway.

He had thought that Madara's lion's mane of hair was the peak of the man's vanity. But looking at Madara's body he could not help, but notice that the man was ripped. It wasn't the muscle mass born from hours of shinobi training that resulted in strong, but wiry limbs and hard chests. No, it was a muscle mass that accumulated in all the right places. Which meant that Madara had to put out extra work to achieve such body sculpture. How else would he get those thick tights and these perfect mounds of pectoral-

Tobirama cut short his thought process. It was _not the time_ to admire Madara's physique, no matter how fine it was!

Tobirama shook his head to chase away any stray thoughts on Madara and his... body parts. He gripped the pen he had been absent-mindedly fidling with a little tighter to ground himself. He desperately needed to get his mind out of the gutter.

Tobirama moved his attention back to the paper he should be working on and-

_Fuck._

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck!_

He did _not_ just fucking doodle a dick on the trade agreement with the Land of Rice Paddies?!

Tobirama glared venomously at the hand that perpetrated the betrayal. It was resting innocently on the side of the table as if it hadn't just committed a grievous crime against its owner. Then he cursed Madara for inviting thoughts of dicks into his head. The man was the source of his misfortunes even if he was not physically present!

Tobirama exhaled in frustration. He knew that there was no point in mulling over what had already been done. He needed to get rid of the evidence before the cause of this whole mess returned from the kitchen.

The simplest solution would be to slightly water the corner with the drawing then extract the wet ink. Tobirama sent the empty glass a forlorn/despairing look.

The summoning jutsu were out of question. While his chakra control was commandable there was no way he would be able to summon such small amount of water without dosing the rest of the papers in the process.

Tobirama bemoaned his impotence. He only needed a tablespoon of water to moisten the corner! His usual solution of spitting a water bullet at the source of his problem was useless in this situation. He paused his self-pity at the last thought. _Spitting._

The idea didn't start to sound less stupid the more Tobirama considered it.

With a sigh of defeat, he picked the document up. Before starting he send a short chakra pulse to ascertain how close Madara was and cursed when it appeared that the man was on his way back. Without wasting any more time Tobirama gathered some spit in his mouth, aimed it at the doodle and spat.

The result was dissatisfacionary. His spit covered only a small portion of the drawing. His second and third attempt didn't yield any better results. He was desperately running out of time and the crude drawing sat ther in the corner, silently mocking him. Tobirama gritted his teeth in helpless anger. With the rate he was going at it he might as well lick all over the entire thing and be done with it!

When he tasted the paper that's when his brain caught up with his tongue. And with his tongue on a paper dick that's how Madara caught him when he returned from the kitchen.

If Tobirama thought that it was too hot before, he was downright certain that right now he must be on fire. His face was _burning_ and his breath shortened to shallow gasps as he was slowly dying from the mortification of getting caught in such a compromising position.

Suddenly, he became awfully aware that he desperately needed more air. With that thought in mind Tobirama surged to his feet. He was completely unprepared for the world to tilt on its axis. ...

When Tobirama came back to his senses there was a wet cloth draped across his head. It was cold and damp enough to take the worst heat off. He pulled it off his face and blinked off the remnants of his bout of unconsciousness.

Madara's face was the first thing that greeted him upon his return to the land of living. It made Tobirama briefly considered returning to where he came from. He really was in no mood to deal with a very smugly-looking (and thankfully, clothed) Madara right now. Besides his body still felt rather strange in funny places. So before Madara could open his mouth, Tobirama announced.

"I could use that cold shower."

Without explaining himself any further he climbed to his feet and unsteadily departed toward the bathroom. He pointedly ignored a pair of laughing eyes watching him disappear around the corner.

"Are you certain you don't need a _helping hand_? Or do you want to do this _alone_?" Madara asked after him, voice full of smug glee.

His only answer was a face full of high-speed water bullet courtesy of one cranky Tobirama Senju who by the look of it had just succesfully reached the bathroom.


End file.
